


The Illusion of Time

by arabmorgan



Category: NU'EST, Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 00:18:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14841954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arabmorgan/pseuds/arabmorgan
Summary: There's something decidedly odd going on with their leader, and Minhyun really doesn't know why he's the only one who's caught on.





	The Illusion of Time

i.

Minhyun first notices it when they’re rehearsing for Downpour. It’s just him and Jisung sprawled tiredly out across the floor of one of their tiny practice rooms, the others having gone out either for a toilet break or in search of sustenance.

Jisung suddenly makes a noise that sounds a lot like a cut-off hiccup, and Minhyun flicks his gaze over, merely curious until he sees the expression on the older man’s face. Jisung’s eyes are closed, fists clenched over his knees as he sucks in quick little breaths, and panic is written all over his face as he makes what is obviously a concerted effort to get himself back under control.

“Hyung,” Minhyun says, too startled to move for a moment. He’s seen Jisung tired, and serious, and sad, but never like _this_ , and it scares him.

He sits up, shifting closer to Jisung, mouth half-open, but before he can get another word out, the moment passes. Jisung exhales a long breath of relief and blinks slowly at Minhyun, lips quirking into his familiar, comforting smile.

“Sorry, I was trying not to sneeze,” he says sheepishly, ducking his head in clear embarrassment at the sight of the utterly dumbfounded look on Minhyun’s face.

Minhyun sputters for a moment, confused. “I thought you were having a panic attack,” he says, almost accusingly, but the fact is that Jisung looks just the same as ever, his eyes curving as he grins, and surely no one can recover _that_ quickly, _that_ perfectly?

Jisung coos, halfway between delight and amusement. “Don’t worry about me, Minhyunnie. I’m perfectly fine, I promise,” he says lightly, as he reaches for Minhyun’s arm and squeezes affectionately.

Minhyun hums in reluctant acknowledgement and settles down again, but this time he does so with his shoulder pressed up against Jisung’s, wanting to keep the other man close. That _had_ been fear he’d seen on Jisung’s face, he is absolutely sure, and he thinks that that scares him more than anything else.

Jisung sighs, resting his head against Minhyun’s shoulder. “I can feel you worrying from here, you know,” he murmurs, slow and relaxed. “We have two more days to practice, Minhyun. We’ll be just fine.”

 

ii.

Minhyun thinks it’s odd how the other members never seem to notice – but to be fair, the lapses only ever last for a few seconds at most, and they never actually look like much. Perhaps he’s just a little too observant for his own good.

It happens again just as they’re about to disperse from the living room and make their way to bed. It’s not that Minhyun’s been spending his time staring excessively at Jisung or anything, but he sees that little blink that’s become the tell-tale sign he looks out for, the blink that squinches Jisung’s eyes tight shut for a second before he looks around, always with a sliver of disorientation behind his cheerful gaze.

Minhyun waits for Jaehwan to pass him by before returning to Jisung’s side, one hand grabbing on to the older man’s arm lightly. “Hyung, are you okay?” he asks, unable to keep the anxiety out of his voice. He’s been thinking about it for a while now, searching for explanations for these strange, occasional episodes, but nothing that makes sense has ever come to mind.

Jisung looks up at him, brows cocked, seemingly bewildered. “Is there something wrong with me that I don’t know about?” he asks, teasing, as he pats Minhyun’s hand lightly. The gesture is meant to be comforting, but there shouldn’t _be_ anything for Jisung to comfort him about, should there?

Later, Minhyun realises that Daniel has always known. Not that that comes as a surprise, considering how long Daniel and Jisung have known each other.

Daniel never does much, never seems overly concerned, but whenever he notices he always makes it a point to direct a smile Jisung’s way. Sometimes the smile is playful and sometimes it’s softer, more reassuring, but Jisung will always, always smile back, the curve of his lips just a little rueful.

Jisung seems to take comfort in Daniel’s attention at those moments, but the difference is that unlike Minhyun, Daniel isn’t constantly keeping an eye on Jisung. More often than not, he misses Jisung’s little blink, the occasional shake of his head, the brief moment that he takes to collect himself.

Minhyun looks over at Jisung, who is sitting beside him in the van, staring out of the window with a peaceful, sleepy-eyed gaze. For someone who so desperately wants to help, he really has no idea where to start, but at least right now, everything is alright.

 

iii.

Jisung can feel a sneeze building, the awful tickle high in the back of his throat that he’s come to accept with tired resignation. He’ll be stuck in this chair doing make-up for the next twenty minutes, so there’s no danger for him on this end, at least.

He’s trying his utmost best to remember their schedule for the next two days, but that’s not exactly the easiest task when he’s occupied with trying to hold his sneeze back at the same time. Probably the airport or something, he figures, and he finally lets himself go.

He sucks in a breath, squeezes his eyes shut, and abruptly sneezes. When he opens his eyes again, he’s on a plane, which isn’t _too_ far off from his estimation of the airport, all things considered. Sungwoon is seated beside him, completely oblivious, eyes locked on the screen in front of him, and Jisung feels his lips tug into an amused smile.

Three minutes and he’ll be back. Shifting in his seat to get comfortable, Jisung closes his eyes and settles in to wait.

 

iv.

Jisung has never been prone to stage fright, at least not the kind that involves hyperventilating and very real terror, not in all the months that Minhyun has known him. Jisung _loves_ the stage. It’s easy enough to see – nothing makes him happier performing for a crowd after everything he has been through over the years.

But right now, Jisung looks nothing short of ill with fear and unease, and Minhyun feels a pang nudge its way roughly through his chest at the sight.

“ _Jisung hyung_ ,” he singsongs as he threads his way through the milling members to wrap his arms around the smaller man from behind, everything about his demeanour suggesting playful affection instead of deep concern. He expects a long-suffering sigh in response, or a prod to the stomach in retaliation, but Jisung jumps, and his head almost knocks into Minhyun’s nose.

“Minhyun,” he breathes, twisting around wide-eyed. “You scared me.” Jisung laughs, but the sound is brittle and anxious.

“What?” Minhyun asks, his tone coming just short of demanding. “What’s wrong?”

Jisung’s eyes widen slightly at the aggression radiating off the younger man, and Minhyun can see the effort it costs him to put a faint smile on his face. “Nothing, Minhyunnie. Just nerves. We all get them,” he says gently, as he untangles himself from Minhyun’s grip. “Hold on, I think Niel’s forgotten his in-ear again.”

Minhyun watches as Jisung hurries over to Daniel, whose earpiece is hanging conspicuously over his collar, and wonders what he’s done wrong.

He tries not to keep looking, but it’s hard, especially when Daniel is gripping Jisung firmly by the shoulders and whispering something in his ear. He hopes it’s something encouraging at least, and it probably is, judging by the bright, bunny-toothed smile Daniel gives their leader when he finally draws back, and the half-hug he pulls Jisung into. It looks like he says, _Don’t worry_ , before he is pulled away by Woojin, and somehow Jisung manages to muster a smile in return.

It’s impossible for Minhyun to keep an eye on Jisung throughout their performance, so he doesn’t actually realise what happens until later that night, when he pulls up the video to watch just before bed.

It happens fast, a split-second stumble, and Jisung doesn’t take all that long to gain his bearings. Unfortunately, the camera is on him at that time, and every moment of his painful uncertainty as he looks around before he finally realises what is going on and catches up, is captured. Apparently, they are being accused of lipsyncing, but Minhyun is pretty sure it’ll blow over quickly.

No, what he’s most concerned about, he thinks as he lays back and blinks up at the ceiling, is the fact that Jisung was worrying about a mistake he would make before it even happened.

 

v.

It doesn’t take a genius to realise that Minhyun is catching on – Jisung is just surprised that it hasn’t happened earlier. He doesn’t think Minhyun knows what _exactly_ is going on, or will ever guess correctly, in fact, but the younger man definitely knows that something is fishy.

It’s almost cute, actually, the way Minhyun almost never takes his eyes off him, thinking he’s being inconspicuous when he’s far from it. His attention seems to stem from genuine concern rather than suspicion, however, and Jisung is grateful, if not a little pressured by it.

“You’re staring again,” he says with a laugh, reaching out to slap lightly at Minhyun’s arm.

Minhyun pulls away and gapes at him in disbelief. “I wasn’t,” he protests, just a little too strongly. Beside him, Guanlin is grinning his huge, gummy grin of amusement as he looks between the two older members, and Jisung is tempted to shoot their youngest a cheeky wink.

Maybe it’s revenge for Jisung calling him out like that in front of everyone earlier on, but the laugh Minhyun lets out after kissing a very startled Jisung on the cheek – and during filming no less – sounds far too delighted to be just simple happiness.

“You brat,” Jisung says later, although he’s grinning widely all the same. “Give me some warning next time, why don’t you.”

Minhyun’s eyes sharpen immediately, his lips curving into something far slyer than his usual smile. “Does that mean there’s going to be a next time, hyung?” His tone is light, but his voice is low and inviting, with a terrifyingly sultry lilt to it that Jisung has never heard before.

He turns sharply, his gaze searching Minhyun’s, and what he sees there scares him with its intensity. This is not the shy, playful Minhyun he’s been living with; this is the Minhyun who lives onstage, hard-eyed and bold, brought out to provide a much-needed courage boost to his red-eared counterpart.

A thousand thoughts whirl through Jisung’s mind as he holds Minhyun’s stare. He should say no, he thinks, because they can’t afford this. They can’t afford any mistakes, any missteps. They’ve both worked far too hard to stand where they are standing now – he should say no.

But what comes out of his mouth is a soft, “There could be.”

Minhyun’s smile lights up his entire face, the tips of his ears reddening with startling speed, and Jisung feels some part of his stomach give an unexpected swoop.

Maybe, he realises suddenly, Minhyun has been staring at him not because he’s been catching on. Maybe he’s caught on because he’s been staring at Jisung all along.

 

vi.

Sometimes it happens too quickly for Jisung to control. The tickle comes, followed by the sneeze, all in the span of a heartbeat, and he finds himself thrown forward into a situation he doesn’t have the faintest idea about.

Being thrown into the middle of a performance is the worst. There’s no quick way to handle something like that, no matter how swiftly he manages to identify the song and remember the choreography for that specific moment.

Being pulled back, on the other hand, Jisung doesn’t mind all that much. After all, he already knows roughly when it will happen, and _what_ will happen.

Whatever the case, he’s learnt to live with it, and it isn’t always completely terrible.

He’s half-asleep when he lets out a small sneeze, more of a cough than anything else, and it’s the sudden sensation of uncomfortable warmth that wakes him fully. Someone is wrapped around him, the heavy weight of another person’s leg resting against his hip, and he wonders which of the kids it is this time.

Jisung tries to turn slowly, just to catch a glimpse of whoever is lying behind him, but the slurred, mumbled, “Hyung?” that sounds by his ear makes him freeze.

“Go to sleep, Minhyunnie,” he whispers back, and he can’t help but smile when he feels the distinct sensation of a nose being burrowed against his neck.

He wonders how much time has passed – a minute or so, perhaps. He probably has another two minutes left, but in forty-eight hours, he’ll have the whole night.

 

vii.

Minhyun gradually stops worrying as the months pass, but he doesn’t stop wondering.

Once, as they’re kissing in the bathroom, giggling and laughing to themselves like excited teenagers, two minutes away from being whined at by an impatient Seongwoo, Jisung gives a sudden, startled squeak and pulls away.

“Oh, Minhyun,” he gasps, flushed and breathless, as if he’s only just realising where they are and what they’re doing.

Minhyun exhales, leaning his forehead against Jisung’s. “What?” he asks, more put-out than confused at the sudden distance between their lips.

Jisung only smiles, and there’s an attractively roguish glint to his eyes as he shakes his head. “Nothing,” he whispers, and leans forward again.

As stupid as it sounds, sometimes Minhyun thinks it has something to do with Jisung sneezing, except he’s far better at concealing his disorientation after he sneezes, as opposed to when it just happens out of nowhere.

“Are you ever going to tell me?” he wonders out loud one day, seated on a beanbag with Jisung beside him, one of his tortured giraffes in his arms.

Jisung doesn’t betray an iota of surprise at Minhyun’s quesion, only looks at him with a weary gaze. “I will,” he promises, and his voice is impossibly fond. “I just need some time. I’ll tell you soon.”

Minhyun thinks that right now, that’s good enough for him.

 

viii.

It’s not that Jisung doesn’t trust his members. He’s just never seen the point in telling them – it’s not as if they can do anything about it after all. All he’ll be doing is making them worry on his behalf, and that’s something he definitely doesn’t want.

Minhyun, on the other hand, has probably earned his right to know, if only for the fact that not knowing is distracting him far more than the truth actually will.

It’s just that Jisung doesn’t think there’s any such thing as _the right time_ to tell his boyfriend that he essentially time travels two days into the future every time he so much as sneezes. The whole situation is ridiculous enough without having to say it out loud.

“It’s not really _time travel_ ,” he says helplessly, waving his hands about in the air in a futile attempt to help with his explanation, “or at least, I suppose you could say I only time travel mentally. So every time I sneeze, the me from two days in the future comes back here for three minutes while I flash forward over there.”

Thankfully, Minhyun doesn’t look like he’s anywhere close to laughing. In fact, his brows are furrowed, lips pressed together like he’s currently having the greatest revelation of his entire life.

“What I think you’ve actually been noticing though,” Jisung continues patiently, “is the me from two days ago landing here when _he_ sneezes, while I go back. There’s always more confusion going forward because I don’t know exactly what I’m getting myself into. God forbid we’re in the middle of that floor move in Energetic or something.”

“This explains _so much_ ,” Minhyun breathes, looking more enlightened than Jisung has ever seen him, and he is filled with a sudden rush of affection for the younger man, so much more than he could ever have imagined feeling for anyone else.

It’s impossible not to fall for someone like Hwang Minhyun, he thinks, who is such a big ball of contradictions that he ends up turning out to be a near-perfect specimen of human being anyway. There is no one else, Jisung is convinced, who pulls off annoyingly clingy and adorably bashful all at the same time as well as Minhyun.

He smiles, lying back and closing his eyes. “I hope so, because that’s all there is to it. There’s really no danger to it at all,” he murmurs, reaching out to interlock his fingers with Minhyun’s, but the younger man takes that as an invitation to bring his full body weight crashing down onto Jisung’s chest, leaving him groaning in regret.

“Thank you for telling me,” Minhyun whispers, shifting considerately so that he’s only half laying on top of Jisung, his chin tucked against Jisung’s shoulder and their cheeks pressed lightly together.

Jisung blinks and breathes out slowly, and is more than content.

 

ix.

Now that he knows the truth, Minhyun finds himself watching Jisung more than ever. He doesn’t really have any reason to, because full understanding of the situation has finally given him peace of mind, but he likes to catch those moments anyway.

He likes to slide over to Jisung in those first startled moments and plant a quick kiss on his cheek, startling him even more. He likes to walk close enough that their shoulders are brushing, so that he can feel Jisung relax minutely against him amidst the deafening screaming of the fans around them.

There’s something about being the reason his Jisung from two days ago is able to keep smiling for the next three minutes that lightens his heart and makes him feel like he’s doing his part for his boyfriend.

But he still wonders sometimes, if Jisung really loves him the same way he loves the older man, with all heart and no expectations. Of course, he supposes Jisung hadn’t really been _in love_ with him when Minhyun had made his poor attempt at confessing, but he really does wonder how Jisung feels about him now, if he loves Minhyun just that little bit more than Jihoon, or Guanlin, or even Daniel.

For Minhyun, it had just _happened_ – he can’t think of any better way to describe it than that. The way Jisung laughed, the way he cared, the way he cried, the way he spoke – it really hadn’t taken Minhyun, or anyone else for that matter, that long to figure out the endless depths of Jisung’s heart, filled with far too much love and compassion for everyone around him.

But it _had_ taken Minhyun quite a bit longer for him to realise that the reason he couldn’t take his eyes off Yoon Jisung was because of more than simple admiration.

He stifles a yawn as the make-up artist makes sweeping strokes across his cheeks, raising his gaze to the mirror to see Jisung standing behind him, looking amused.

“What?” he mutters, doing his utmost best not to smile.

Jisung’s eyes gleam, and he rests his elbows on the back of Minhyun’s chair, staring Minhyun’s reflection in the eye. “I sneezed, and I felt like coming to see you,” he says, sounding like he’s on the verge of laughter.

Minhyun beams at that, and he doesn’t even mind that he earns an exasperated _tut_ from the make-up artist when his cheeks raise. His Jisung from the future wants to spend his entire three minutes with him, and he really couldn’t be happier.

 

x.

Jisung sneezes, and knows that something is wrong the moment he tries to open his eyes. They are impossibly swollen, the kind of swollen that comes with hours of crying, and that fact doesn’t sit well with him at all.

He’s on his bed, he realises as he sits up, but Jaehwan is nowhere to be seen. For a moment he thinks about leaving the room and looking for his members, but does he really want to know?

It’s his responsibility as leader, he finally decides. Whatever might come, at least he’ll be prepared.

He stops when he reaches for the doorknob – there’s writing on the back of his hand, his own handwriting scrawled angrily in black and slightly smudged by, presumably, his tears.

It says _Don’t give flowers_ , and Jisung feels a trickle of ice run down his back. He’s never tried to leave himself messages before, not even when he’d failed a test back in school, or when he’d twisted his ankle so badly he’d had to sit out of practice for close to two months. He could have, perhaps – just a few words like _Study harder_ or _Careful with your turns_ , but he never had.

It had never felt _right_.

He doesn’t know if his strange affliction has a purpose or if he’s just unlucky, but he’s fairly sure it’s not so he can give himself an unfair advantage in life – except right now, clearly something terrible enough has happened for him to resort to warning himself for the first time in twenty-seven years.

He’s been planning to get flowers for Minhyun for their sixth month anniversary tomorrow, but he supposes it’ll turn out to be the wrong choice. He can’t imagine Minhyun breaking up with him over _flowers_ , but neither he can he think of anything else that he might cry for hours over.

“Hyung?” He hears Jinyoung’s cautious voice from the other side of the door, and he opens his mouth to respond, but he is abruptly pulled back before he can say a single word.

His three minutes are up.

 

xi.

They spend the night of their anniversary with the members, rehearsing choreography for both their upcoming comeback and the world tour, but Minhyun can’t find it in himself to be annoyed. It’s no one’s fault, and there could be worse things than doing what he loves with the people he loves.

It’s long past midnight when they get back to the dorm, but Jisung waylays him in the hallway to push a soft package into his hand anyway. “Happy six months,” the older man whispers, leaning up on his tiptoes to press a kiss to Minhyun’s lips.

“Thank you,” Minhyun whispers back, and promptly starts giggling at how stupidly secretive they are being. “I’ll give you your gift tomorrow.” He pulls Jisung in for a hug and another kiss – or two – before nudging the other back in the direction of his room.

“Goodnight,” Jisung murmurs, turning back at the last moment to give Minhyun his signature eye smile just before he shuts his bedroom door. Minhyun feels a little like squealing with ecstasy, but instead, he carefully places Jisung’s gift aside before heading to the kitchen to check on the current state of their fridge.

 _His_ anniversary present is going to be a wonderful, well-deserved breakfast in bed for his very hardworking boyfriend and leader, and he is absolutely going to make sure that everything turns out perfectly, which includes making sure that they are not, for instance, out of milk in the morning.

With a sigh, Minhyun pops back into his room to grab his coat. “I’m just going to get milk,” he says to Sungwoon, who looks up at him curiously in the middle of his nightly skincare routine. There is a twenty-four-hour convenience store just two blocks away – he’ll be back in no time.

 

xii.

“Why did he need milk so badly?” Jisung just doesn’t understand. “He could have gotten it in the morning. I don’t – I don’t get it.”

Everyone else is silent, just like the last three times he’s said that.

“I don’t understand,” he says again, and he should really be trying to stay strong for the kids, for his members, but he just can’t seem to stop the tears from coming.

“Hyung,” Sungwoon says at last, and he sounds exhausted. “He just wanted to make breakfast. He wanted to make sure he had everything ready.”

“I think I need to lie down,” Jisung whispers, and no one stops him when he stumbles to his feet and retreats to his room. He doesn’t blame them. He doesn’t exactly want to face himself either. All Minhyun wanted to do was to make a nice breakfast for him, and now he’s gone.

Jisung cries for a good half hour before finally remembering the message he had left for himself on his own hand. It had never been about the stupid flowers after all. He had gotten Minhyun a shirt and he had still gone out and gotten himself knocked down by a car.

Scrambling for a pen, Jisung stares at the back of his hand for a moment. _Don’t give MH anything_ , he scribbles furiously, but that’s not quite right either, is it? He _can_ give Minhyun his anniversary gift, just not that night. They had all been dead on their feet – breakfast would have been the last thing on Minhyun’s mind had Jisung not brought their anniversary right back to the forefront.

In the end, he supposes it doesn’t really matter if he gets Minhyun anything at all. Having him alive would be more than enough.

He looks up when the door opens, and for a brief, terrible, wonderful moment, he thinks that it will be Minhyun, but it is only Daehwi, his face blotchy with tears as he collapses against Jisung’s side. Jisung wraps his arms around Daehwi’s slender frame and rests his face against the top of the younger boy’s head, and the pain in his heart eases a little for just a moment.

The next second, Daniel crashes into the room as well, looking alarmed, possibly with the intention of dragging Daehwi out of the room to leave Jisung in peace.

 _It’s okay_ , Jisung mouths, because it is. He’s going to fix everything.

Daniel’s gaze softens when it lands on Daehwi’s slumped form, before shifting to the stark black words scrawled across the back of Jisung’s hand. His eyes narrow slightly as understanding hits, and then his mouth twists with a deep grief. He nods sharply – he wants Minhyun back too.

Later, after Daehwi leaves in search of Woojin, Jisung curls up on his side on his bed alone, eyes closed, waiting.

Two days ago, at this very second, Jisung sneezed.

 

xiii.

Jisung really doesn’t understand why he isn’t supposed to give anything to his boyfriend on their anniversary, but he supposes he probably shouldn’t question himself.

Instead, he leans up on his tiptoes and presses a kiss to Minhyun’s lips in the dark hallway.

“Happy anniversary,” he murmurs.

**Author's Note:**

> I've literally been wanting to write a time travel fic _forever_ but I am inept so this is what you get, a serious fic with the most ridiculous premise ever.


End file.
